


hancock

by jeanheir



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: M/M, Space Pirates, an attempt at sci-fi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:27:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21936706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeanheir/pseuds/jeanheir
Summary: Pirate invasions don’t end in happy endings, especially with a crew like the Aurorean Corsair. But maybe today will be the time to break traditions, at least Mark hopes so.
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12
Collections: DreamXmas 2019





	hancock

**Author's Note:**

  * For [octie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/octie/gifts).



> dear octie, im so sorry that i couldn’t get this to you on time. the ending wasn’t working for me so i took some time to perfect it. i hope you enjoy, and happy holidays! 
> 
> a hundred thank you’s to the mods for being so patient with me throughout this fest, as well as to my beta yesenia who helped and encouraged me all the way. couldn’t have done it without you, y’all are amazing <33
> 
> title taken from villain’s hancock~

It’s scary, how much your life can flip from better to worse in the blink of an eye. Instead of hurricanes, this butterfly brought ticking time bombs in its midst, ready to detonate at a moment’s notice. Unknown to the trouble that lay before them, the 156, one of many SMC scientific research crews, carried on with their usual business with an air of ignorance. 

Routines were performed without fuss, the Meadowlark landing upon different planets, its white armour reflecting rays from each and every sun and moon. The pirate invasion of RSSM156 was as unpredictable as the outcome of a spinning coin, a score that resulted in shattering damage.

Cinus’s suns beamed against Mark’s spacesuit, steadily transforming him into the most irritable man alive. He had heard the rumours of how the dragon-native planet was no different to a sauna, but he had foolishly assumed that they were exaggerating, secondary school banter and all that. The moment his rubber boot sunk into the sandy, orange ground, Mark felt as though he was going to start melting, right then and there. The suits did come with aircon, but you had to wait five minutes for it to turn on. Mark didn’t have that time, and neither did his suit at the rate he was sweating. 

Now, nearly half an hour later, he was certain that if he didn’t return to the Meadowlark in the next few minutes, the oxygen tank upon his head would turn into a mush of plastic, his head helplessly trapped inside. The worst part being that the tank wasn’t even needed because Cinus already had breathable air. How else would the dragons survive? Even though it was a safety precaution from the SMC, if it so happened that Mark died from it, he’d be more than miffed.

A scarlet dragon landed beside him coolly, wisps of smoke flowing from her pink snout. She gazed at him, slit-like eyes narrowed and waiting until he raised a gloved hand to rub against her smooth neck softly. “How are you?” He asked, smile widening as she purred into his palm. 

Despite the reputation that the scaly creatures had earned over the years, whether be it from fairy tales or fables, dragons were generally pleasant creatures, usually calm and placid. To portray such animals so brutally made Mark wonder what could’ve happened to his ancestors, as to why they would characterize them so horrifically. Take the one beside him for example, she was as harmless as a kitten. 

The calling symbol on his suit’s sleeve lit up, the device emitting a metallic whirring sound. He held down the miniature icon for a few seconds, trying to connect the signal to whoever was calling. The only flaw was that there was no way of knowing who was ringing — and sure, only SMC brandished the devices with their fleets, but that didn’t mean they should let their guards down. Caution was the first rule of survival after all, especially when you travel through space. 

Yukhei’s voice crackles from the transmitter, a tinny sound that makes Mark wince. “-he’s not picking up, yeah I’m using this right. Mark, hey! Finally! Just checking in to see how you’re holding up,” he greeted, tone chipper. 

“I’m seriously cooking out here,” Mark jokes, narrowly avoiding a rock that was about to trip him up.

“Please don’t,” his friend laughs, “I can’t defend you from the others if they find you burning something on accident again.” 

Mark bites his tongue, embarrassed by the memory. It had been the third week since the 156 were formed, and as a team bonding activity (proposed by Taeyong) the crew had decked out their aprons and opened a book of Baking & Boos, ready to make their culinary dreams a reality. Sadly, and pretty shameful on his part, by the second step he’d already forgotten how to use the gas cookers, and had turned the knob too far to the right, strengthening the fire by mistake. It had resulted in black, crispy cupcakes and peals of laughter, as well as the promise that he would never use the flammable kitchen appliances unsupervised. It was a funny but mortifying experience, one that he’d never want the pleasure of partaking in again.

“That was one time!”

Yukhei giggles, “And thank god for that. Oh crap, look I’ve gotta go, Taemin’s asked me to help him organise the travel logs for the H.Q, talk to you later!”

He lets out a single ‘bye’, and the line clicks, leaving him to converse with the shrubs. His mood always improved after talking with Yukhei, the lankier boy was like a powerhouse, giving Mark more and more energy every time they spoke. It was quite fortunate too, seeing as the trail to the ship wasn’t getting any shorter. It’s almost been a year since the 156 were formed, granting him the best friends he could have asked for. And sure, years of studying and research just to turn into a lapdog for a selfish company was hardly rewarding, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

The dragon, who he’d dubbed as Rosy, trailed her snout over his fingers before she eventually bounded away, taking flight soon after. He watches her until she’s a tiny spec in the coral sky, clambering his way over the craters and ditches to hurry back to the ship. The other dragons flying low and high barely spared him a glance, tending to their young metres away. 

As the rubber soles of his shoes crush the ground, he sighs of exhaustion, eventually reaching the Meadowlark’s entrance. After pushing down the latch and sliding his right hand glove off to scan his handprint on the door’s reader, he waits for the metal doors to click open, stepping inside to the cool air that surrounded the ship. Following his earlier action, Mark removes the other glove and places them into one of the cabbies by the entrance, little boxes where miniature parts of uniform went .The air-conditioning feels good against his skin, and he allows himself to bask in it for a few seconds before removing his other garments and placing them in their separate containers.

He struggles with the back zip of his suit for an embarrassing amount of time, finally managing to tug the damned thing off, hooking it to one of the pegs on the nearest wall. Last but not least, he shakes off his boots one by one, with the latex-like black uniform underneath his spacesuit sticking to his skin uncomfortably. He wrinkles his nose in disgust. To no surprise, Cinus had shown him no mercy, and it would be wrong to say that he appreciated it.

He hears Yukhei and Taemin talking about coordinates from afar, their voices easily carried through the air vents. They seem busy, and he doesn’t want to disturb their work bubble (it takes the two a while to get back to work once distracted, even more so together), so he decides to retire to the Lounge Deck to relax a bit, stopping by his cabin to change into more breathable clothes first. 

Taeyong and Jongin are huddled together, sitting on the lavender sette located in the corner of the room, beside a nice bookcase and giant potted plant. Mark wasn’t even sure how the plant was still alive, seeing as no one ever watered it. It was a gift given to Taeyong for completing a solo expedition, a kind of trophy if you will. The older man was a bit of a legend back in the company, successfully completing every mission he was assigned. He was definitely one of the people Mark looked up to the most. The couch had originally come with a coffee table, but they’d relocated it to the storage room because of the lack of space. Since then it’s been collecting dust morbidly, but no one can be bothered to move it. 

Watching the PADD in Jongin's hand, Taeyong averts his eyes and greets him with a wave. “Hey Mark.” His hand pats down on the free space beside him as an invitation to sit.

PADDs were thin, phone-like devices that displayed live footage from every camera on a spaceship. Pretty cool if you don’t mind the lack of privacy, and inevitable blackmail that would ensue if you so happened to annoy someone enough. They were also equipped with relay speakers, so it was possible to talk to someone in the room down the hall if you needed anything. 

Mark sits down, relaxing into the cushions with a content sigh. His posture had been rough lately, cabin beds growing more unbearable as the nights went on.

“There’s not enough fuel so we can’t leave until Ten refills the tank,” Taeyong comments, their engineer reaching into his toolbox to grab a spanner and a few shiny screwdrivers. “And you know how he is with liquidiser engines.”

“Shit!” Ten yells from the engine room, fastening a bolt belonging to the main boiler. The cameras showed that he’d just removed the thermostat, placing it into a tub of water in an attempt to cool it down. “I’ve been at this for an hour and the temperature hasn’t lowered an inch. Forget radiators, I’m spending my winter here.” 

Jongin laughs, “I’ll write your family a nice postcard as to why you couldn’t come back to Testa this year, I’m sure your sisters will be more than relieved.”

“It’s not even the thermostat! The fuel tank! It needs a top-up!” Taeyong shouts, watching Ten continue to apply water to the cooler. 

Ten and liquidisers went hand in hand like water and oil, the two avoided each other as much as they possibly could— or rather Ten did. There’d been a rumour going around while he was in university, that Ten had mistakenly blown up a teacher’s combustion chamber after filling it with the wrong gas, resulting in a lifetime of detentions and time he’d never get back. Ten never actually confirmed it, but the obvious avoidance of the topic was more than enough to verify it, to some extent.

“I’m sure they’ll understand that I’m just extremely dedicated to my job,” he retorted, shaking his head in disbelief. Ten rescrews the thermostat back in its place and grabs the bucketful of water, turning back to the camera comically before leaving the room to return to the main deck. “Well, pray for me then. I’m about to do something that I know I’m gonna regret.”

The others roll their eyes at his antics, cheering him on for the time being.

Ten’s primary job was repairing engines and heaters whenever faulty struck them, though the machinery rarely had malfunctions anyway. He was often onboard with little purpose, providing the rest of the crew with his smart-mouth and cheeky comments whenever boredom was in the air. There was never a dull day with him, a feat that everyone began to appreciate the longer they stayed in space. 

He reappears a few minutes later, chemical mask strapped on his face seriously. He pours the liquidiser into the tank with a look of distaste, filling it to the max and lumping the bucket somewhere in the background. Ten makes his way back up to the others, with Baekhyun trailing close behind, snorting at his antics for a second before retaining his composure. “So I contacted HQ in regards to the state that the Meadowlark has been in since our last mission, and it turns out that we’re pretty much fucked. Even with the engine in working order, we won’t be able to go to the next planet because the solar panels are beginning to run low too.”

Taeyong butts in, scoffing,”What do they even think S.O.S means?”

“I’d like to give Taemin the okay to start the rocket boosters, but for now we’re gonna have to sit tight and wait for night to come.” 

On average, Cinus days lasted about 72 hours give or take, and that wasn’t even counting the length of the nights. They only had a brief idea of what time it was, some time in the early afternoon, so when the crew let out a collective groan, it was perfectly warranted for. 

Baekhyun chuckles, leaving with a laugh to inform the other members of the glorious change of plans that had just been stowed upon them. “Get comfy everyone!”

Mark was reciting some pop song under his breath within the walls of his shared cabin (with Ten and Yukhei), waiting for something, anything to happen, because he was already bored out of his mind and he’d only been back for five minutes. Research ships were quite obviously constructed with the idea that officers would be contributing something to modern science constantly, but wouldn’t it help to install some entertainment here and there? The chance of people procrastinating their work with T.V. was a risk of course, but none serious researchers would make. 

He sighed as he sank into his bunk, mattress springs recoiling at the action. Lazily, he reaches an arm out to grab the green notepad lying on his desk, initials ‘M.L’ scrawled messily in black sharpie. It was a plain little thing, apart from a tiny moon illustrated neatly on the cover. It had been a gift for him brought by his mother on his eighteenth birthday, though he had only started using it recently because of the strict amount of work the SMC had assigned him. 

The lime-coloured book was his way of documenting his thoughts, a sort of impromptu diary you could say. The pages were slightly creased from the amount of times he had flipped through the contents, trying to find notes he’d written on the pages in a rush, but he didn’t mind. Jokingly, he’d said to Yukhei that they gave the book some personality when he’d commented on it. As well as a sign that he was using it, which was good enough for him. 

Another reason he had begun to write inside it was because he’d been experiencing homesickness, the book bringing a sense of nostalgia and homeliness from all the years it had sat upon the bookshelf in his room, untouched for what felt like forever. Whenever he’d return from school, homework piled up in towers on his desk, he’d close his eyes and imagine the cool colours it held, calming him down almost immediately. It could even be considered a lucky charm at this point, he reminisces to himself. 

The Meadowlark’s cabins were barely the size of a kitchen, three small beds cramped on each side, opposite each other in an attempt to garner more space. Bunk beds would have been more convenient, but as per usual, SMC weren’t thinking about their pilots when they were designing it all out. Luckily, the mattresses had small compartments underneath, so  
you could store any items and clothes that were too big to fit in the cabbies on the walls. 

When Mark had first met Yukhei, he hadn’t taken him as the sentimental type, so he’d been pretty surprised to find out that instead of filling the space with sleepwear and other comfortable clothes, he had opted to personalise it as a little corner for all his home items, like a plush toy he’d grown up with, as well as some pictures of his family and friends back on Testa, his home, and one of the other three human planets in their galaxy. 

Truthfully, Mark had felt a little guilty about it at first, a notepad and some herbal medicine hardly seemed to measure up in comparison, but spending more time with the excitable boy made him realise that he had just been tripping himself up about it for no reason. At the end of the day, Yukhei was just a fun-loving guy who liked to share his happiness with others. 

He jotted down brief descriptions of Rosy, of her calming nature and soft scales, wise eyes that seemed to know more than she could physically express, then about the differences between Chanria and Cinus — as alike as the night and day. One giant point being the dominating species, humans and dragons. 

His home planet was similar to Earth, a humanoid planet that was believed to have curated the earliest technology found by modern scientists. Not much was known about it, only that it was native to all kinds of lifeforms and abnomolys, having existed for millions and millions of years before it eventually met its demise. Centuries before Mark was born, his people’s ancestors had discovered fragments of ancient technology, years upon years of history engraved in stone tablets. 

No one was sure about how the artifacts had gotten there, but it was certain that whoever and whatever had inscribed them were long gone. When the ancient Chanrian’s had finally accumulated enough knowledge to have somewhat of a grasp at the ideals of the lost civilisation, they began to build up their world from there, using the tablets as a stepping stool to construct their beliefs from. 

4019 years later, lost civilisations eventually constructed themselves into the places they were known as today. And though there was little to zero proof, it was widely accepted that their science had far surpassed Earth’s, technologically and dynamically. Even thousands of years later, Chanrian’s still paid respect to the creatures that had inhabited their lands before them, traditions evolving and changing, using traces of Earth’s culture as glue. 

With a short click, the leaden door slides open and Ten steps in, exhaustion displaying a show on his features. “Mark, shoot me. I’m giving you a headshot, just please end my suffering.” Rubbing his face with his hand, he heads over to his bed and promptly crashes on it, groaning into his pillow. 

A smile breaks through Mark’s face as he puts his book away to give attention to the body of exaggerated moaning on the bed beside him. “Taeyong’s been making me record videos of him singing for his dog, which is cute as hell and all, but he’s been doing the same moves for every single one of them. A guy gets tired, y’know?”

“You say that but you give Hutong the same treatment,” Mark snickered, cranking his neck to see the other’s reaction. 

Ten’s on his back, arms folded behind his head, retort ready at his lips. “I have a reason! We only visit Howland every few weeks! If don’t shower her in my love, she’s going to forget my face. Which would be a shame because then she’d be stuck with Yangyang’s mug running through her head 24/7.”

Yangyang was Ten’s cousin, the two moving in together while Ten was taking a break from university to focus on himself. In that time, they’d adopted Hutong, a pretty grey and white cat that Ten used as a muse whenever he was feeling particularly bored. Mark had only met Yangyang briefly, when they’d last visited Kirton, one of Chanria’s suburban cities. It was a quick exchange but the two had become well acquainted fast, and Mark already considered the unrestrained boy a good friend. 

“Did you spot any cool places on your trip out? I may as well get a grasp of the scenery here if we’re going to be staying for as long as I think we are.” Ten sighs.

“Actually, I had the opportunity to meet a real gem.” The younger laughs, “Come on, I’ll introduce the two of you. She usually comes to me though, so we’ll have to wait a while.”

Ten raises a brow questioningly, but follows him without any more comments, seemingly satisfied with the promise of a new face. 

The suns glares had, if anything, gotten meaner as the hours dragged on. And by no means was Mark a weather expert, but he was pretty sure that the later it was, the milder it was supposed to get. Cinus was the definition of his worst nightmare multiplied by a hundred, and surprisingly he wasn’t enjoying it one bit. 

Ten found a shaded spot a few feet away behind some dry shrubs, and he decided to lay against a boulder to relax a bit. The sketchbook balanced on his lap was quickly collecting heat by the minute, so much so that Mark was seconds away from believing that it would set alight, right there on his friend’s lap.

“That’s probably not safe, you know,” he commented, gesturing towards the bronzing pages.

Ten waves him off jokingly, repositioning it against a small boulder of rocks beside him. 

Minutes later, two dragons, one green and the other an odd teal shade, who’d been eyeing them from afar began to fly towards them, flamboyant wings quickly causing an uproar of sand and pebbles in their wake. They screech fiercely, Ten fascinated but horrified at the same time, while Mark tried to understand what they were trying to do. There was the possibility of them trying to attract other dragons to use them as prey, but it seemed far fetched, even to him. Then again, who knows, maybe the ancestors were right in their claims. After what felt like hours, the mystical creatures grew bored, eventually bounding off towards the south, large bodies creating a wreck in the cloud’s broad walls. 

Retelling the whole ordeal would certainly be an interesting experience, one that would probably haunt his thoughts for a while. Both parties agreed to return to the ship, before anything more disastrous were to happen. Mark silently apologises to Rosy with the promise that he’d return to her soon, following Ten’s footsteps in the sand. 

The older man was buzzing with creative joy, no doubt inspired by the dragon’s display. In Mark’s case however, the screeches wouldn’t leave his mind, leaving him to desperately scrape for answers. For the first time in a while, he felt a strange sense of foreboding. He kept the thoughts to himself though, as to lengthen Ten’s good mood whilst the theories in his brain ran wild. 

Little did he know that he had almost hit the nail on the head. It was a kind of sign, one ambiguously hinting of the things that were about to come, right before their very eyes. 

Apart from the thumps of Ten throwing his boots into the shoe cabby, and the thrum of the air-conditioning fans, for once, the Meadowlark was surprisingly quiet. As Mark brushed grains of sand from his sleeve, he rationalised that the silence was merely due to the fact that his crew had probably settled for playing board games or something. The silence was odd, but understandable. Having heard of the Meadowlark’s situation, he wouldn’t be bustling with joy either. Still, a heads up would’ve been nice though, instead of welcoming them into a ghost ship. 

“It’s too peaceful here,” Ten frowned, tone suspicious. “I can’t even hear Baekhyun. What’s going on-”

His words die in his mouth as a minute red dot sets on the bridge of his nose, ebony pistol held steady in the firm grasp of a man, no boy, that Mark had never seen before. The hand wielding the deadly weapon was made up of several metallic plates, with intricately arranged bolts here and there. His silver eyes carried an emptiness Mark had never seen in a living thing before, if he even was, living, that is. Robots and androids weren’t uncommon in their day and age, but only the richest people owned them because of how unpredictable they could be. Reprogramming when the bots malfunctioned cost a lot of money, and the results weren’t nearly good enough for people to start throwing their funds around freely.

His lower waist was no different from his right arm, only the heavier parts of his body, like his chest and upwards were human-like, in the regards to the pale skin and artificial veins it contained.

“Take me to your command deck,” he shifts the muzzle towards Mark threateningly, “before I pull the trigger.” 

His words didn’t match his youthful appearance but they carried the right amount of edge that had the two SMC serfs obeying immediately. With the aid of the gun of course. Mark worriedly glanced at Ten, who’d adopted a look of pure dread. He swallows, throat dry, and begins to trudge towards the hallway, eyeing behind himself now and again to watch the android, gun still aimed towards his head.

Inside the command deck, a room that Mark had previously associated with warmth and friendliness, had had its comforting atmosphere stripped clean.  
Now it was a room with an ugly, off-putting feeling to it. He felt as though something was suffocating him, like all the oxygen in his lungs had been squeezed out. 

Two young men, a brunet with a short ponytail and the other doe-faced with judgemental eyes, were circled around his captain, who’s face had been so pervasively bruised that he looked like he’d ended up on the wrong end of a street brawl. Baekhyun’s face was littered with small, purplish bruises, sandalwood hair tousled and unruly. To put it short, it was a horrific sight to look at, one that sent a metaphorical dagger curling in his chest. He looked like he was trying to refrain from moving his facial muscles in a way that wouldn’t hurt, but even the smallest actions sent waves of pain.

Who Mark assumed to be the leader was watching him indifferently, expression cold. He turned to face Mark and Ten when they’d entered the room, the brown-haired man whispering something to him. “This,” he eyed the other 156 members menacingly, “is just the beginning. The next second one of you make the mistake of trying your hands at negotiation, Yuta will maul your precious captain’s face so brutally that you won’t even recognise him.” 

Baekhyun grimaced at his crew. Not for his own wellbeing, but for theirs. The team were his first priority, and who knew what these people would do the moment any of them were to be agitated. Taeyong casts a glare at Yuta, hands up above his head in surrender.

“This is what’s going to happen. You’re going to give us all the information you have about Chanrian’s Phoenix, and if what you say is useful I might just rethink my decision to blow up this poor excuse for a ship.” 

Chanrian Phoenix were mythical birds believed to have the ability to grant a captor of one of their fiery feathers the opportunity of a lifetime, the chance to claim their greatest desires — or more commonly, immense wealth.

Of course, with a promise as big as that, Chanria had had more than its fair share of visitors, pirates and criminals alike trying their hands at recovering the bird’s greatness. There was no one that had yet confirmed the myth, Chanrians deeming it as folklore, wishful thinking. Unfortunately, some had yet to receive the memo. 

Mark doesn’t think there’s been a time where he’s felt so afraid. Not only were the intruders most definitely pirates, clearly the more violent of the lot, if one were to snap, it would come with a great cost to the 156, a possibility being imminent death. He strongly doubted that the weapons in their sheaths were for just for show. When Mark had cursed the lack of action earlier, he hadn’t meant it to fruit into such a heinous situation. 

His knees burned, blue jeans rubbing uncomfortably against his skin. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much he could do about it, hands tied up rigidly behind him. Mark’s palms were stinging, freshly pink from his attempts at prying against his restraints unsuccessfully. In the short course of five minutes, the pirates had tied them up and thrown into their storage room, unappreciative of their silence. Baekhyun wasn’t with them however, and Mark could only fear for his captain’s condition. 

He’d overheard the identity of their captors while they had been transferred to the storage room. It had sounded like they were calling for backup too, not exactly the type of news Mark had been excited to hear. Jongin leaned on the wall beside him, and they tried to brainstorm different ways to deter the situation. It was safe to say that they were well and truly stuck. 

Taemin, their medic, raises his arm out to comb through his hair, sighing helplessly. “I can’t think right now,” he mumbled, “Not to be the downer here, but odds are Baekhyun’s out there getting his ass kicked and there’s nothing we can do to stop it,”

“He’ll be alright,” Mark tries, relaxing his legs in a futile attempt to weaken the strain. “If there’s one thing he is, it’s stubborn.” 

Taemin’s expression doesn't lift, but it’s arguably less miserable than before. “You’re right, I should know from experience.” 

Speaking of the devil, Baekhyun limped through the door with a grim expression. The injury against his leg that he had gained on his time away wasn’t pretty, but it seemed that the bruises had been put to a stop.

Captain Taeil stood imposingly behind him, the rest of his crew eyeing them like hawks. Although he wasn’t tall in stature, there was an air to him that commanded everyone’s attention. His dark brown hair was shaved into an undercut, remaining strands neatly combed back. His other lackeys, the ones that they had summoned weren’t anywhere in sight, but Mark could only imagine that they were staking out the ship, ready to pounce. 

“I … I didn’t want it to come to this,” Baekhyun started, gaze fixated on his crew. ”After some convincing-” Jongin winces at this, “-I’ve decided that aiding Captain Taeil and his crew in exchange for the safety of our crew is our best option out of all of this.”

Taeyong frowns, “What are you going to do?” 

Shamefacedly, he replies, “Not me, but Jongin and Mark. The two of you are native to Chanria, and Jongin in particular studied mythology, so I proposed that you two could join them in their journey until they accomplish their goal. Captain Taeil swears that no further harm will come to the both of you if you comply. It’s not permanent so I hope that the two of you think about this, and what it means for our crew as a whole.” 

Millions of thoughts raced through Mark’s mind, heart-rate increasing rapidly. It was clear that the pirates had no qualms about violence, so how was it certain that they would keep their word? For the 156, he would do anything of course, but having the situation hurdled to him head-on was giving him mixed thoughts. 

Jongin clenches his fists, “What if we don’t? What’ll happen then?” His demeanour is strong, but Mark can see that he’s just as affected as the rest of them, if not more.

Yuta stepped forward, brandishing his gun at the other’s head, ready to shoot. Only retreating with a wave of his captain’s hand. “Well, all I can say is that you’ve already seen what my men can do, adding on to the weapons we have, it would be in your best interest to go along with what your captain says.” 

For the most part, he agreed with what Baekhyun had said. The safety of his team came first, second being himself. If it meant that they would remain unscathed, then as much as it scared him to do it, he’d gladly offer himself as a scapegoat. 

“I can see that your friend here is contemplating beginning to realise the urgency of this situation. Wise guy.” 

Jongin glances at him, bucketloads of worry evident on his features. “Mark … are you sure? We could find another way-“

As much as he’d like to give the other’s words the benefit of the doubt, they’d tried that already, ideas debunked as soon as they spoke them into existence. The situation wasn’t calling for an intervention, it was calling for a decision. Even if the only foreseeable way out was most risky, it was a chance they’d have to take. “I don’t want to do this anymore than you do, but it’s the only plausible way out of us leaving with our lives.” 

Taeil smiles, not a warm or pleasant one, a smile akin to a shark who’d just captured its prey. Mark would love nothing more than to punch it clean off, two for every one of the injuries he’s inflicted on Baekhyun. “Good.”

He turns to his men, “Now escort these men to the ship, and make sure they don’t try anything funny.” 

The farewell had been brisk, Taeil’s men impatient about returning to their ship, or whatever fantasy machine they’d come from. Mark was certain that he hadn’t seen another spacecraft apart from the Meadowlark the last he had gone out with Ten, so it was the only solution he could come up with. Spaceships weren’t silent vehicles so it was strange how they hadn’t heard anything. Cinus wasn’t the type of planet that had long structures either, little to zero trees with the only parts of nature being tiny bushes, but even he wasn’t daft enough to believe that a ship with more than five people could even fit behind a giant one. 

At the doors of the Meadowlark awaited an intimidatingly tall man whom the pirates had referred to as Johnny, taking over to lead the duo down a pathway following a trail of smoke that seemed to go on forever.

Johnny was quiet but not in the way that Yuta and his friend had been, who’d given the impression that they were more trigger friendly than actually friendly. Johnny, as it turned out, was enjoyable company, or maybe that was because of the lack of arsenary at his hips. Either way, he didn’t say much but he had garnered some shreds of respect from Mark because despite Taeil’s command, he hadn’t kept a tight rein on Mark and Jongin at all, only looking backwards a few times to make sure that he was still within walking distance. He didn't know why the man was so buoyant, but it was refreshing. It would’ve been an understatement to say that he had been feeling suffocated since the incident in the command deck. 

Although his height was quite domineering, he had the temper of someone who blended into the background, no questions asked, no unnecessary statements said. Mark found himself warming up to him little by little.

When the trio finally exited the Meadowlark, doors automatically sliding open, Mark wasis hit with a wave of melancholy. This was it. He just hoped that it wouldn’t be the last time he saw her in one piece. This wasn’t the last time he would see his ship, at least if Taeil was as true to his word as he claimed to be. He could only hope that his crew would be alright. 

Mark turned to Jongin,“You holding up okay?” He looked worse for wear, lips swollen from him chewing at them.

“Don’t worry,” Johnny reassures placidly, “Your friends will be safe. Taeil seems hard headed but he really is someone who follows up on his word.” His voice was soothing, pleasant to the ears. 

He represses the urge to lift an eyebrow. Trusting Taeil meant that he would have to believe that the older man wouldn’t send some men scurrying over to defile his captain or the others at a moments notice. The idea of forgiveness wasn’t all to desirable right now, and trusting him was the furthest from what he wanted to do right now. Or ever. 

Jongin mutters a thanks, meeting Mark’s eyes with a disgruntled expression. He’s in no attitude to talk, Mark feeling the same. Taemin’s got all of his supplies so he could patch everyone up no problem, he just hoped that there would never be a situation to use it. 

Johnny sighs, no more words exchanged during the journey. Whatever he was expecting to happen had surely backfired, and despite himself, Mark felt a swell of guilt rise in his gut. Which was dumb because his friends had just taken his entire crew hostage, but he seemed like he was genuinely trying to be nice. 

The source of the smoke was too far for the naked eye to see alone, wisps painting the sky for miles upon miles. When they had finally walked enough, so much so that Meadowlark was barely an outline over the horizon, the pirate turns to a boulder of rocks and slips some kind of key out of his jacket pocket, hovering it over a crack before the cobblestone seemed to shift into a pirate ship-like structure. It owned all the trademark qualities except from a deck, which had a flat ceiling and no clear way to access. 

It was unlike anything he had ever seen before, something straight out of a dream. He’d heard of shapeshifters when it came to living organisms, but when the term was referred to something inanimate, it flew over his head. It explained why there hadn’t been a ship to see though. 

“This is the Chameleon, the Aurorean Corsair’s finest treasure, as well as our ship.” Johnny called, pulling down a door handle at the keel of the ship that Mark hadn’t even noticed. “We have a few others on board, but you don’t have to worry about them. They’re just there to make sure things are running smoothly.” 

The interior was just as unusual as the exterior, the contrast grandly different. If you were to compare the two side by side, you would be able to tell that they were from the same spacecraft. The floor was speckled in different shades of grey, with walls ascending higher than the ship’s crow’s nest. There were three corridors separated similarly to a fork road, brown doors located parallel to each other down each hallway. 

“You’ll be staying in the worker’s cabins, they're the corridor furthest to the left. Choose whichever room you like, just make sure that the door has a number on it, they’re the ones with more beds.” 

After the room arrangements had been decided, Mark’s being 07 and Jongin’s 03, Johnny left the two to their own devices, receiving a summoning from the captain’s quarters. Jongin promised that he would stop by after he got himself adjusted (meaning he’d take a nap and try to forget everything that happened today) and they reluctantly separated to meet their new roommates. 

He knocks on the brown door hesitantly, breathing deeply. There’s no one else in sight, the connection causing an echo throughout the hall. When no one answers, he braces himself and pulls down the handle, opening the door and stepping in. 

Instantly, he’s met face-first with the strong, distinct smell of oil and gasoline. It’s so intense that Mark takes a step back, slapping his palms up to shield his mouth and nose. You’d think he’d become accustomed to the smell of gasoline, living on a spaceship for so long, but this type was different. It wasn't the usual propulsion liquid that the Meadowlark used, it had a more metallic touch to it. 

A boy with wearing retro grey gloves and worn, brown safety goggles strapped on was screwing holes into a sheet of metal, small dents on the sides of every corner. He scribbles something unclear on the diagram on his desk before going back to inspecting the plate. Everything in the room was either some kind of hardware, or an array of assorted metallic tools, from electrical drills to manual saws. 

Mark is still glancing around the room when the drilling stops, replaced with soft hammering, the clinks of the tool hitting screws into place. 

“Pretty nice huh,” he comments, biting his lip as he knocks the bolts with admirable precision. “Got all these parts from a friend downtown Lyndhurst, she’s cranky, but has a knack for reducing the prices for all the expensive stuff.”

Lyndhurst rings some bells, resting on the tip of his tongue but he’s unsure as from where. “As in Fownhope?-” Mark asks, taking a shot in the dark. “I think I’ve heard of it before, suburban city right?”

The boy perks up at this, pushing up his goggles to reveal a mop of tangerine orange hair and tanned skin. “Exactly! You’re from Chanria as well?” He stretches out an oily gloved hand, one that Mark does his best not to scrunch his face at the feeling, and retracts it back with excess oil left on his palm. 

“Yeah, born and raised.” Mark smiles, marginally startled by the openness he was just exposed to. 

The boy grins, showing off his milky white teeth. “Most of these guys are from Petram, so it’s been a long time coming. I’m Donghyuck by the way, the main engineer here. If you have anything that needs repairing, I’ll do my best to fix it.”

He’d could’ve sworn that Johnny had said that the main crew’s cabins were located in the south wing, but maybe he’d heard wrong. Being the main engineer didn’t necessarily mean that he was part of the crew, probably just more experienced than the rest. 

“I can hear the cogs in your brain whirring from here,” Donghyuck teases. “What is it?”

Mark feels his face flush at the comment, brought off guard by his playful attitude. “Shouldn’t you be in the south wing with the other pirates then?” 

The ‘why are you here’ lies on his tongue, unspoken when Donghyuck sighs, “I should be, but I don’t really comfortable with the other guys there. Of course I appreciate Captain Moon for what he’s done for me, and Johnny’s gentle as always, but the other two … Yuta and Doyoung rub me the wrong way. They have an unsettling liking for shooting things, whether it be dead or alive. Human life should be valued, don’t you think?”

Ah, those two. He didn’t particularly have a problem with Doyoung, though he understood where Donghyuck was coming from. Personally, it was Yuta who had struck a nerve with him personally. 

“Well, enough about them, I can feel the irritation crawling up on me already. How about we get to know each other? We’re gonna be here for a long time if Irene’s manning the ship today.” 

Irene, as he would later learn, was one of three of Donghyuck’s friends. They generally got along together, but because of their jobs (Irene was one of the navigators), they didn’t see each other as much as they’d like. Taeil didn’t like people walking around aimlessly in his ship, so a majority of them were under room-arrest until it was their shift to work. Despite their prison-like lives, most of them were generally happy — or just plain shy, like one of the traders, Jisung. 

Turns out that Mark had hit the roommate jackpot. Donghyuck was perfectly welcoming, and pridefully showed him his work collection: a fine composition of armour, weapons and other small figurine-like objects that he’d created himself. Unexpectedly, it had come as a surprise when Mark told him that he wasn’t a new recruit, instead, a research officer who’d agreed to aid pirates for the safety of his crew. Saying it out loud made it sound more heroic than it actually was. 

“So this means you’re from one of those big shot research companies? What’s it like?” Donghyuck wastes no time in firing questions at him, so quick that Mark hurries for answers, resulting in the younger boy laughing at his earnestness. 

“It’s pretty fun. It’s been a goal of mine since I was younger, travelling around the galaxy and meeting all kinds of creatures in person. The planets can be pretty intense at times, but I think that’s what makes it exciting, you never know what’s going to happen next.

My crew are a bonus too, not sure if I’d be as sane with another group. I know some unlucky people who were matched with people they couldn’t stand, and I’m just thankful I wasn’t one of them. Actually, I remember counting my lucky stars when they’d been decided.” Mark says fondly at the memory. 

“My dreams were kinda similar to that too, so I’m happy I ended up where I am today as well. Even though the adventure is kind of stale here, I have a weird sense of belonging here. Like this is where I want to be, you know?” 

Mark did know. Sort of. As a kid, he’d been hellbent on becoming a scientist mainly because it was the path that his parents had taken, the joy that would light up their faces when they talked about it had inspired him. However, when he’d actually began to study and prepare for the exams that the companies would eventually send forward, he couldn’t help but feel a weird emptiness in his chest. A feeling akin to boredom that only disappeared once he had met the 156 and what would soon become their Meadowlark for the first time. They were a second family to him, and he’d always treasure deep in his heart. 

Soon afterwards, when Mark had finally settled in, Johnny knocks at the door with a happy expression. “Seems like you two are getting along well! Just stopping by to tell you that we’re leaving for Chanria in a few, so if you feel anything odd, it’s just turbulence,” He turns to Donghyuck apologetically, “Jaemin’s arm is malfunctioning too, so I’ve told him to come down soon, so just expect a knock at your door.”

Donghyuck runs a hand through his hair, picking himself up off his bed and slipping into the chair beside the desk. “Any reason why? Or does Dr. Lee have to perform one of his famous diagnoses again?” 

“His circuit blew a fuse from the heat, or he had an unlucky encounter with a dragon. Either way, the left arm is in pretty bad shape.” Johnny jokes, gaining a snort from Mark. 

He has a good idea of who Jaemin is already, unless the Corsair had a penchant for collecting multiple androids with unique hair and tough skin. 

Mark likes to believe that he’s the type of person who takes things slow, not one to rush things before they’re rightfully due. In this case though, he’s not sure about how he should proceed. Whenever Donghyuck does something, whether it be his hair falling to a side as he curses the stunted development of a taser, or him yawning sleepily from his desk as he rambles to Mark about a creation that he found dumb, the most simplistic actions were sending emotions that he couldn’t describe to his heart.

He’d learnt that Donghyuck was almost a year younger than him, that he enjoyed practical jokes, as well as the fact that he was really pretty when he smiled, though he’d never admit it out loud. 

And sure, maybe it was just some baseless crush, a less than conventional love at first sight, but that didn’t stop the butterflies from causing a flurry in his stomach at the sight of the ginger.

The door rattles nearly 45 minutes after, interrupting Mark and Donghyuck’s heated debate about the best cuisine in Chanria. Instead of Jaemin at the door, it was Jongin, eyes widening a fraction until he sees Mark sitting on a bed inside the room. 

“Oh, good, I thought I’d gotten the wrong room again.” He sighs in relief, hints of embarrassment coating his words. 

He looked better since Mark had seen him, lightening the load in his heart a little. Mark only hopes that he had had enough time to clear his head, with all that’s been going on and all. “You holding up alright? You looked really pale earlier.”

After an awkward exchange of introductions, Jongin meeting Donghyuck and asking all the polite questions, the older boy eases his back into Mark’s bed and rubs his eyes tiredly.

“I’ve felt worse, that’s for sure. I’m sharing a cabin with this guy named Hyunsuk, but the problem’s not him, it’s the room beside ours.”

“Too loud for you?” Mark teases, pinching his arm lightly. 

“Actually,” Jongin admits sheepishly, swatting his hand away, “Yeah. I feel bad for complaining but I can barely think with all the shrieking they’re doing.”

Donghyuck drums his fingers against his thighs, thinking for a second before brightening, “Room 04?”, Jongin nods. “Ah, so you’re the one stuck with Chenle and Jisung.”

“That’s me,” Jongin half-heartedly cheers.

“You’ll get used to it! I thought that they were a bit much too, when they first joined, but you’ll love them soon enough, I promise. The best way to get by is to either ignore it or join it,” Donghyuck says fondly. It wasn’t particularly hard to guess which one he’d chosen himself. 

Though imagining Jongin screaming and shouting up the place was a funny situation to think about. 

“I sure hope so. Hyunsuk, I don’t know how he does it,” 

“Oh right, you think we’ve left Cinus yet? I haven’t felt anything but then again, this ship’s mannerisms are really odd.” He adds, eyeing the room for any resemblance of a window. 

“Johnny said we were before you came here, so I’d assume so,” Mark pipes in.

The red light above Donghyuck’s desk glares, lightening up, “That’s our sign,” he says, flapping through a flyer of tool types. “Whenever the Chameleon's just been fired up, that light there glows up.”

Jongin yawns, rubbing Mark on the back before standing up. “Well, I’ll see you two later. I’ve been feeling more tired than usual.” He leaves the room with a weak smile, closing the door softly with a click. 

As he loses himself to his thoughts, the boy from earlier who’d threatened Ten and himself with a gun enters the room, expression blank as always. Mark tenses as he strides in, relaxing somewhat to see him without his famed revolver. 

Donghyuck watches the interaction with a questioning look. “Seems the two of you have met before,” he pulls a few tools from his belt and beckons him closer. 

Mark nods, studying his actions. “You could say that.” 

“This is Jaemin, he’s an offence android I found on a trip to Testa a few months ago. Judging from your reaction,” Donghyuck gently detaches the metallic arm from Jaemin, inspecting the wiring and tweaking at it was a tweezers, “I think it’s best to assume that you met him while he was on offence mode. You don’t have to worry about him now though, Wendy programmed him to remain dormant till we reach Chanria, so he’ll remain in the south wing until then.” 

Jaemin’s eyes don’t move, in fact no part of his body does. He sits motionless on the chair, barely a flinch when Donghyuck had pulled his arm off. The fact that he had threatened him hadn’t left his mind, but then a part of him is sympathetic for the robot. He’s merely doing as he’s told to do, no choice in the matter. 

Once Donghyuck finishes his repair, Jaemin takes off, barely glancing at Mark, gaze dead on the door. His eyes were as still as ever, unfeeling and cold.

Donghyuck’s retelling a story of Chenle and Jisung’s mischievous endeavours, and while they’re wholly entertaining (the two teens had close to zero boundaries), his thoughts had been occupied with stressing over the other 156 members, worried for how they were doing. 

They would have enough food to last them for a week and a half at least, but time flows differently depending on the planet, like a kind of timewarp. Ten would be complaining, naturally, and Taeyong would be the one to console him, however that works. Their dynamic was pretty strange now that he thought about it.

Deep in thought, he hadn’t been aware of the brown eyes staring at him inquisitively, nor the way the tips of the owner’s ears flushed the more they stared. Subtle or not, Mark would’ve missed it anyway, just like the first few times that it had happened. 

Donghyuck returns his gaze to the arensery diagrams on his wall, sighing softly to himself. “What are you thinking about?” 

“Just about how Chenle and Jisung haven’t been kicked off the ship yet,” he lies. He’d already gotten the answer to that question earlier. Chenle was the younger brother of the shipwright who made the Chameleon, pleading Sicheng to allow him entry to the crew when it was finally constructed. Taeil agreed, feeling indebted of sorts— if that was even possible for the pirate captain. Jisung and Chenle went hand in hand, so naturally he came aboard too. 

Donghyuck gives him a look. 

“… it's about my crew, Jongin included. I can’t help but worry for them, we have no way of contacting each other and it’s getting to me.” 

The other boy hums thoughtfully, “I’m not gonna tell you not to worry, I just think that you should give them the benefit of the doubt. From the way you speak of them, they seem like really capable guys, and from having met Jongin in person, I believe it, okay? Just go a little easier on yourself,” he says, like he genuinely means it. Mark ignores the flush blooming on his face.

His words console Mark, hints of pride emitting from him. “Yeah, they’re really amazing people.” Traces of a smile growing on his lips. It’s like a small weight was finally lifted from his shoulders, not much to be said about the ones in his stomach though — for a completely different reason of course. 

“Where do your parents live?” Donghyuck asks, watching as marketsmen attempt to lure them to their stalls with promises of good fortune. 

They were frauds, no doubt, who’d probably scammed more than twenty people since the day had started. Little children ran around excitedly, looping in and out of the stands as they played a game of tag, buzzing with excitement.

“A bit north from here, in the countryside. They like the isolation, says it helps them stay focused.” His parents had an affinity for quiet things, the city being too populated for their liking

When the Chameleon had finally landed on Chanria, shifting into a cosy cabin in the woods, Taeil sent a scrawny looking teen to fetch them while he relayed the mission to the others. He’d told them that they’d be splitting into teams, one for each mission. Donghyuck and Mark were to get supplies, Doyoung and Johnny to watch out for any intruders, and Taeil, Jongin and Yuta to scour out the place using the maps they’d, most probably, stolen a few days ago. 

As to why Mark wasn't in the same group as Jongin, he wasn’t too sure. Mark had faith in the older boy’s abilities, he just hoped he wouldn’t do anything reckless. They split up by a lake in the woods, Taeil and his group heading towards a clearing, while Donghyuck and himself trailed towards the village he’d seen briefly overhead. 

If Mark’s heart quickens at the thought of spending more time with the younger, that’s no one’s business except his own.

Donghyuck makes a sound of interest, inspecting an elderly woman’s jewellery stand, giving her a smile when they make eye contact. “My parents don’t even live here anymore, they packed up their things and left as soon as I turned into an adult.” 

They reach the end of the market strip, Donghyuck’s backpack filled with what Mark could only describe as clutter. He doesn’t think he’s seen a single tool enter it since they’d left the Chameleon, which defeats the purpose of their mission, but who is he to say anything about it? The sun has begun to set, sky transforming into nice pink colour from its usual baby blue. It’s a breath of fresh air from Cinus, figuratively and literally, and he’s glad to be back no matter how long his stay is. He’s missed his home. 

Mark feels the need to comfort the other boy, with all means possible, but he can’t get words out. Donghyuck doesn’t seem particularly saddened by what he’s said, but Mark doesn’t want to dig up any unfortunate memories if he pries on. 

“That sucks,” Mark fumbles, inwardly cursing himself at his lack of tact, “I’m really sorry.” 

Donghyuck laughs., “It’s fine, really. It had been a long time coming so I’d just numbed myself before they’d gone. For the most part, I’m relieved that they set their marks somewhere else.”

Mark barely recognises the road they’re walking on, market long behind them. They were heading to what looked like a clearing, scenery gradually transforming into from forrest 

“Thanks to them leaving, I was able to meet Sicheng, who introduced me to Captain Taeil and the rest of the crew. In my mind, it had been the chance of a lifetime. I was feeling tied down here, and my dad was pressuring me to follow his own dreams, not the ones I made for myself,” he says, looking over the horizon with a bittersweet expression.

Donghyuck’s wanderlust, the yearning for freedom, was alluring to him. So much so that even the slightest actions garnered nests of butterflies in his stomach, fluttering rapidly around him. 

That night in the clearing, the two boys talk more, laughing over old stories and new experiences under the night sky, tanned hands holding fairer ones, grasp firm, hands soft.

What will happen to them, when the day is over and the objective is completed is a problem for another time. For now, they’ll relish in the sweet touches and shy kisses that they share, hearts warm and loving.

**Author's Note:**

> comments and/or kudos are greatly appreciated <3 
> 
> you can find me [here!](https://mobile.twitter.com/jeanheir)  
> 


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